


Submit

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Chains, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was:  Lister/Low Rimmer, during "Demons & Angels". Taunting him with the holowhip and his relationship with Low Lister and Lister's own with Rimmer. I don't mind a bit of whip action, but no rape or serious bodily harm, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submit

The tarantula he'd been forced to eat churned sickenly in his stomach, combined with the shock and horror of what he'd seen of himself and the others in this Low environment. He was still on his knees in front of the now empty glass case, his nose throbbing where it had been slammed into the locker. He was worried more about his groinal area – a place he had fond memories of – that now pulsated with soreness in time with his heartbeat.

Rimmer - _his_ Rimmer, would be horrified at what his Low self had done. Rimmer may be a callous smeghead, but he wasn't _cruel_. He wasn’t domineering. He wasn't…

"Find the others. Bring them back to our playground," the Low Rimmer ordered.

In the reflection of the glass, Lister saw Low Rimmer wrap the holowhip around Low Lister's neck twice and yank him close.

"Bring me my sniveling self, so you can break him like I broke you," Low Rimmer murmured.

That horrible, grating cackle had a different edge to it as Low Lister replied, "It would be a pleasure, my love. Do you want him conscious?"

Low Rimmer's tongue flicked out and would have licked up Low Lister's chin to his nose, if he'd been corporeal. Low Lister's moan had an undertone of that whining cackle. "Do what you have to. And if you have to stick your hand inside him to shut off his light bee –" Lister felt sick at hearing his other self's orgasmic groan – "make sure to give it a good, hard squeeze."

Lister shut his eyes and wished he could spontaneously go deaf. Were this Rimmer and Lister _together_ , as much as two beings could when one of them was a hologram? From their interaction and the way that the other Lister had groaned – his turned-on, ready for action groan – he suspected they did.

His eyes flew open as his arms pushed him to his feet and he was turned around to face Low Rimmer. The smug, knowing, aroused look in his eyes sent his pulse racing in fear. He tried to pull away as Low Rimmer brought the holowhip up to his cheek, flinching as he heard the hum of electricity so close to his skin.

Even through the blue glow, he could see anticipation in Low Rimmer's expression.

Lister felt truly afraid for the first time in about three million years. His voice was all he had to protect himself, so he started talking. "Please, whatever you're thinking, you don't have to. You don't want to. I know you, Rimmer. This isn't you."

Low Rimmer chuckled, and it was a low, seductive sound. "You only think you know me. You know what I tell you, but I have to hide so much of who I am."

Panic clawed its way up his chest as his hands began to remove his sodden trousers. "No, wait!" he cried, staring at Rimmer's hands, but they only held the holowhip. Someone else was controlling him. His gaze darted around frantically and spotted Low Cat lounging on the table he'd been strapped to, the remote in one hand, the other down his pants.

As his shirts were pulled over his head, a twisted tightness in Lister's chest started to close off his airway. Maybe unconsciousness or even death was preferable to what these two had planned for him.

The soft purr of Low Rimmer's voice in his ear sent a shiver down his spine. "He likes to watch. Isn't your Cat _curious_?"

He couldn’t speak. He tried to look away, only for his gaze to fall to Low Rimmer beside him.

Low Rimmer sighed and stroked a hand down his chest to rub his leather-encased groin. "This is the real me, the me that no one is capable of handling – except for you, dear Lister."

The raw sexuality in his voice was confusing Lister. He felt himself responding to it, even though he knew it was Rimmer, a base version of Rimmer, a Rimmer who had said he would lash him, then he would…"No," he insisted, panicked that he couldn't even shake his head. "Me and Rimmer – we're not – I don't even smegging like him!" he argued.

That seductive laugh again. "Don't you? When you're fighting – and I assume you do fight, since it's such a delicious turn on – don't you get a rush of power? The verbal sparring back and forth, like the thrusting of hips against a lover? The smug satisfaction you feel when you win an argument, or the sense of loss when you lose?"

He was uncomfortably warm and confused. "No," he replied, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

The knowing, assured look that Low Rimmer dragged down his body made him feel naked, then he realized he _was_ naked, and a strangled sound caught in his throat.

The holowhip caressed his cheek, sending sparks of pain/pleasure to his extremities, leaving him more confused. He'd never gotten off on pain before, hating the idea of hurting or being hurt by someone who claimed to love you, but this was something else. This was something deeper; something darker. Something primitive.

Low Rimmer glanced to Low Cat. "Put the shackles on him and move him beneath the chain."

He was forced to secure the rusted metal around his wrists and with increasing dread and trepidation, walk over to stand beneath a thick chain hanging from the ceiling. His arms rose above his head and his wrists flicked the shackles over the hook at the end of the chain. He finally recovered his voice. "I don't care what you say; you're not the same as my Rimmer. That depravity doesn't live inside him. He's a coward at heart, too afraid of authority and command to ever do something like this."

He yelped as electricity hummed against his thigh; the holowhip hovering a few inches in front of his favorite, unprotected, sexual organ.

"We're all the same person," Low Rimmer said, his voice a lover's caress. Lister watched nervously as the holowhip was uncoiled to dance on the floor at his feet. "No matter what dimension; what universe; a Rimmer will always be Rimmer, and a Lister will always be Lister. You can't change human nature, David. You can't change the basic tenet of who. We. Are."

He howled as the whip snaked around his legs, his muscles spasming as electricity coursed through his body. The whip retracted and lashed out again, this time around his chest. He twisted with the motion, but he couldn't control his body; Cat was still in control. "Cat, please," he shouted. "You don't have to do this."

"Scream again," Cat's voice called back to him. The whip curled around his upper legs, a high-pitched scream wrung out of him as he felt the tip of the lash tickle the underside of his dick.

Before he could catch his breath, his left knee bent so that he was balanced on his right leg. "Oh, no. No, please…" another scream was ripped from him as his right knee bent, snapping his body downward and pulling the shackles taut. His shoulders and wrists ached with the strain of supporting him, and he felt tears wet his cheeks. "Stop this, please. I can't…"

"Oh, but you can," Rimmer's self-assured voice taunted him as the whip slashed across his buttocks. He jerked and swayed with the motion, his yowl of pain echoing in the dingy room. "My Lister does. They all do. Don't you, Cat?"

Lister could just hear Cat's growl over the rushing of his blood, pushing the pain deeper into his body, making sure that every cell shared the experience. "Stop it, please. Oh, smeg, stop…" He lost track of how often his body was painted with the whip, the streaking arcs of agony melding into a continuous hum throughout his body.

"Stop, please. Please," he cried before his throat was too raw to do more than whisper, "Please."

His feet were back on the floor, his legs spread wide so Rimmer could twine the lash around each calf and thigh individually. Rimmer worked steadily upward, covering his ass, hips and back with the throbbing, burning sensation of electricity. The lines of agony had transformed into brushstrokes of pleasure, the layers of ecstasy thickening on his skin and going deep; so much deeper than anything he'd ever felt. Lister wrapped the thinner chain of the shackles around his fists as he pulled himself up on tiptoe, his body tensing and releasing with each loving caress of the whip.

When the whip curled around his chest and landed over his hard nipples, jolts of raw energy shot down to his erection, hardening it further. "Please," he begged shamelessly, arching his body into the next stroke.

He was panting, shaking, his entire body on fire when Rimmer walked to stand before him, sexual satisfaction pouring off of him. "What is it you want from me?" Rimmer purred.

He licked his parched lips, tasting the salt of sweat and tears. "End it. Make me yours. Kill me. Fuck me." His voice was as raw as his emotions. He didn't know what had happened to him, but he wanted whatever it was that Rimmer had. He craved it. He needed it like he needed air.

Rimmer dragged the coiled edge of the holowhip down his neck and chest, to rest between his stomach and erection. He stared down at the blue light and dancing electricity, a ragged, needy keen ripping up his throat. He vibrated with the need to thrust into that circle of energy, knowing it would sear his flesh in unimaginable ways and hurt beyond all human capacity. He licked his cracked lips. "Please," he begged softly.

Rimmer's eyes never left his as he ordered, "Take him down. Get him over to the table." Rimmer's gaze was mesmerizing, promises and threats both tantalizing in their depths.

Lister's arms were lead weights as he removed the chain from the hook. Muscles were still misfiring throughout his body as he staggered over to a table, not the one that Cat was lying on. This table was waist-high and covered with burned metal and bits of wire. It looked like something had exploded on it, dark with ash and grease and grime.

The holowhip slid down his spine to rest at his lower back. He moaned and pressed into it, feeling the surge of energy thickening his cock.

Rimmer's voice was a murmur in his ear. "Bend over. Face on the table."

Swallowing the saliva that had filled his mouth, he shuffled over to the edge of the table until his abdomen pressed against it. His erection was underneath the table, hidden from his view. His heart in his throat, he raised his shackled wrists and bent over the table, nearly losing his balance. He shifted his feet apart until he felt balanced, then tried again. He inhaled sharply as pieces of plastic and metal dug into the flesh of his gut, but he continued down until his chest was touching the table. He was breathing hard, anticipation and excitement and humiliation churning inside his chest. He stretched his arms above his head until he felt the opposite edge of the table and curled his fingers around it. Finally, he turned his head and pressed his cheek into the dirt and grime and parts of whatever the man behind him had destroyed. He closed his eyes and waited.

Indescribable pain. Overpowering emotion. The lash worked him over and whatever the implant was doing to him, it was pushing him beyond human thought. His body had vibrated on the cusp of coming for what felt like hours; days, yet Rimmer kept him there, hovering, weeping, aching.

The table was the only thing holding him upright; he couldn't feel his legs. His torso was numb, not even able to feel the bite of the fragments embedding themselves into his skin. The only part of him that still had feeling, the only bit of flesh that mattered, was his cock and it was screaming for release.

Rimmer's face swam before his vision, the distorted 'H' and nose chain glowing in the half light. "Are you ready for it to end?"

He couldn’t speak; hadn't been able to make more than guttural sounds as every drop of emotion was whipped out of him. He looked at Rimmer helplessly as a tear blurred his vision.

His heart clenched as Rimmer proclaimed gently, softly in his ear: "You will miss me." Then his body exploded in wave after wave of the most intense, shattering climax of his life.

When he came to, he felt something soft land on his back. "Get dressed. The others are coming back empty-handed. Disappointing. I'd rather have liked to watch my Lister destroy your Rimmer. You would have made a perfect couple, then."

Lister shakily pushed himself up; every part of him aching. The shackles had been removed and his clothes were scattered over the table. He picked up his t-shirt and began the slow, agonizing process of getting dressed. He was still confused but now deeply ashamed of what he'd allowed himself to feel, what he'd allowed himself to sink to. He was no better than the Low Lister. He glanced to Rimmer and his heart fell; no longer the intense sexual being he'd spent the last however many hours with; Rimmer was just the depraved, transvestite hologram he'd first seen.

His heart lifted as Rimmer ordered, "Bring him to me."

He was walked over to stand before Rimmer, his gaze hopeful, but there was no recognition in Rimmer's eyes that he was anything more than the tarantula he'd been forced to eat. "Since we couldn't find the others, we're sending you out to get them." A piece of adhesive tape was slapped over his mouth and a knife forced into his hand.

His eyes widened and he started to protest, but he could only make indecipherable muffled sounds.

Fondness flared briefly in Rimmer's eyes. "You're going to locate your crewmates and those high versions of yourselves, and you're going to kill them all. When you've splashed their blood all over the decks, you'll be brought back here to spend the rest of your life as our plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He tried to scream but he felt his body being moved toward the door, away from Rimmer and toward his friends, revulsion and dismay at the conflicted thoughts that followed him out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> ( _Take that, 50 Shades_ )


End file.
